Page 151 of Mafia and Gold Digger

I’d stuck my foot in my mouth when attempting to show her how I was trying. I was doing the best I could, and it wasn’t enough. Emotions and I don’t mix. And yet, I tried. I let myself give into that gooey center I’ve tried so damn hard to ignore I even have.

This isn’t like me.

No. This is the man Emerald has turned me into. A man who so desperately wants to be better for her, but at the same time, is failing miserably at it.

She was big enough to say sorry for running out of the wedding and for not telling me about the baby sooner.

But I still couldn’t tell her what she needed to hear from me…

Standing up, I grab my shattered phone from the floor and test whether it’s still working.

The screen’s cracked and blurry, but it’ll do.

My hand curls around the black case. I’ll have to replace it. But first I need information. My steps are sure and measured as I jog down to the kitchen. I put a pot of coffee on and stare at my broken phone on the counter.

I just need to think like Emerald.

Where would she go?

Where would she take the kids?

She wouldn’t put them in danger. So, wherever she is, they’re not with her. They’re safe and oblivious to what’s happening. It’s her way of protecting them.

My head hangs between my arms where they rest on either side of my phone.

She could be anywhere, and I hate it. I hate not being able to account for every move she makes. Like she’s this one big blind spot in my life.

I know her better than any target I’ve ever taken down. And yet, I’m at a complete loss where to start.

Someone has to know something.Anything.

I snatch up my phone and find the number I need.

Hitting dial, I listen to the ringing tone. I stare up at the ceiling, waiting and letting out a breath to calm my nerves.

“Hello?”

“Jacquetta,” I say.

“Saint? What time is it?”

“Where’s Emerald?”

“What?”

“Where. Is. Emerald?”

“Look, she dropped the kids here. They were due to stay with me for two weeks anyway and were looking forward to it. She’s gone to the Bahamas by herself. She needs the break.”

After she tells me all she knows, I hang up and check with the airline. But she never boarded the flight.Shit. Where the hell is she?

I call Jacquetta again. “She never got on the flight. What else did she say?”

“That’s all she told me.”

“You’re her best friend,” I grit out, trying to keep the irritation from my voice. Because snapping at her and demanding something from her isn’t going to get me what I need. “Will you let me know if you hear anything?”

“What are you going to do, Saint?”

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